Stay Up
by IShouldBeHome
Summary: Sam and Mercedes meet by chance, but are immediately drawn to each other. It shouldn't work because of his addiction and constant battle at home and her clinical depression, but they hold on to the idea that all you need is love. AU.


**This is from a long (and very specific) prompt I got on Tumblr, and it ended up being much longer than a drabble, so I'm sharing it here. Hope you like it.**

* * *

Mercedes sighed and waited at the front desk of the hospital as she watched the woman behind the computer gather her paperwork. She was leaving, and needed to sign out before she could go. Her hands fidgeted on the surface, something she did when she was antsy or nervous. She hated being in the hospital for even five minutes, let alone the twenty four hours she just spent there under suicide watch.

The evening before last when she got home from work and it was time to take her depression meds, she ended up sitting at her kitchen table, simply staring at the bottle. Was it making her better? Was the medicine just _forcing_ her to be happy? The pills wouldn't change the situation, they wouldn't make her less lonely, and they wouldn't make her life…better. She was thinking, and when she got to doing so, she thought too much, resulting in her asking the question 'What am I even doing here?' She proceeded to take one pill, then two, then the whole bottle. Then she continued to sit, and wait.

A girl had just moved in next door that night. She was chipper, nosy, and generally annoying to most who encountered her. As Mercedes was drifting off, the new neighbor was fixing her bangs and clearing her throat with a Tupperware of an old Jewish recipe in her hands. She knocked once, twice, and when she got no answer on the third knock, she tried the handle and walked in when it opened to find Mercedes slumped over the table. Any other day, the girl's actions would have been seen as out of line and crazy, but that day she saved a life. Momentarily.

The woman finally reached up and slipped the proper papers across the large desk.

"Can I have a pen?" she asked. The woman took one out of the mug by her computer and handed it over.

Mercedes took it and signed her name and information where it was needed. As she did so, she couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes on her. She looked up and to her side to see a pair of green orbs staring at her intensely. She studied him, eyes moving over his short, messy blond hair, his black eye and strong arms that were propped up on the desk over papers of his own.

"Sorry," he said when he realized he'd been caught. He gave her a weak smile, and she didn't smile back, only felt the tell-tale warming sensation in her cheeks. She felt like a little girl, as she couldn't remember the last time any_thing_ or any_one_ had made her blush. She looked back down at her papers and signed another line before handing the papers back.

She chanced another look at the boy who'd been staring at her and realized he was staring again.

"Take a picture?" she suggested. He laughed a little.

"I wish." There was that blush again. He looked down and finished signing out before handing his own papers back. She looked away and walked to the exit door, leaving out to cross the parking lot and hoping she didn't miss the bus. She got to the stop and sat there, waiting and looking out onto the empty street. Minutes later, a beat up, rusty Escort pulled up in front of her. The blond guy from earlier rolled down the passenger window and leaned over.

"Do you need a ride?" he asked.

"No…the bus is coming," she responded.

"There are creeps on the bus," he told her. She rolled her eyes.

"I've never met you and you're trying to get me in your car. I think that makes you a creep."

"Touche," he said, nodding. "But I can be a lot more entertaining than the bus patrons. And I promise I'm not a serial killer. I just want to give a pretty girl a ride." He smiled and even through his tired disposition and bruised eye, he looked like a little kid; harmless. She was also beginning to think she'd missed the bus and they came in half hour gaps.

"Promise you won't gut me or tie me up in your basement?" she asked.

"I can't make any promises about tying you up, but if I do, you guarantee you'll like it," he said, smirking and pushing the passenger door open. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip and stood. She walked over and got in, closing the door.

"So…I'm Sam," he told her.

"Mercedes."

"Where do you live?" he asked. She gave him her address and he started driving.

She simply stared ahead, keeping silent. She didn't know what to say, especially when he kept glancing at her.

"So what happened? Like, why were you at the hospital?" he asked. She hesitated. "You don't have to tell me if it's personal, I was just making conversation," he added when she didn't answer.

"It's okay. I had to get my stomach pumped and stay overnight," she told him. He bit his lip and nodded, knowing exactly what all that meant.

"Did the shit get to be too much?" he asked. For some reason, she smiled.

"You could say that."

"You have a gorgeous smile." He stopped at a red light and looked at her completely. She blushed for what seemed like the millionth time since she saw him.

"Why were _you_ there?" she asked.

"No big reason. I just had to get my hand bandaged up. It knew it would cost an arm to get anything else checked out, so yeah. But it was bleeding pretty bad so I had to go in."

"What happened?"

"Just a…fight with my dad." He shrugged, but she could see the change in his eyes. She could tell it was a dark subject. He stared ahead and she found herself studying him again, only this time she noticed the track marks on his inner arm as it rested on the wheel. She looked away, suddenly feeling like she was intruding.

He drove into the parking lot of her apartment building and stopped in a space. She got out and he surprised her by getting out as well.

"Gonna walk you to your door," he said when she looked at him weird. This was a bad neighborhood, and he genuinely wanted to make sure she got in safe.

"Oh," she said, walking up to the building and going inside with him behind her. When they got to her door, they stopped and looked at each other.

"Here it is," she said, giving him a half smile.

"Right," he responded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Thanks, by the way. It was really nice of you to drive me here."

"I honestly just wanted to talk to you, and the opportunity presented itself," he said, laughing a little. She didn't really understand what he was seeing, but it made her stomach turn nonetheless. They stood there for several more seconds, just staring at each other as if waiting for someone to make a move.

"I can't kiss you," he said finally. That wasn't what she expected him to do anyway, but when he said it, she fought a frown. "Cause I know if I do, I'm gonna want to touch you and then I'll convince you to let me come inside, and that shouldn't happen."

"Why shouldn't it happen?" she asked. He raised his eyebrows at her. He didn't know what to expect, but he didn't expect her to question him. Did she want it too?

"I just wanted to talk to you, that's all. Cause I saw you and thought you were really pretty. I don't want to do anything though, cause if we do something, it'll be real, you know? I don't love and leave…" he said, smiling.

"Then don't leave," she told him. Mercedes didn't know why she was being so forward, but something about him made her feel a tiny bit of happiness, and though she didn't know why, she didn't feel good about just letting him walk away. He almost grabbed her and kicked the door down so he could book it to her bedroom, but he shook his head.

"You don't…you shouldn't get mixed up with me," he said. "I'm not really uh, boyfriend material. I'm pretty fucked up." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her, gaging a reaction. She didn't seem fazed.

"I mean, I just tried to kill myself," she said simply.

"You'll want to kill yourself with me around." His voice had gotten quieter and she wondered who had been around telling him things like this. She also wondered if she should tell him that his presence was a rare thing that _didn't _make her want to die.

"I bet I won't," was all she said. She turned and unlocked the door, walking in. He still stood on the other side of the threshold, looking at her. She stared back and wordlessly challenged him to make a decision. He licked his lips thought more about it, before deciding and walking in.

She dropped the keys in her hand when he kissed her and in what seemed like seconds, they found themselves in her room, on her bed. He pulled away from her and sat back to pull his shirt off. When he did, she gasped inaudibly at the bruises sporadically placed around his torso.

"Don't worry about it, they don't hurt," he told her when he saw her expression, coming back down and taking her lips with his. He moved his lips to her jaw and tugged at her shirt, causing her to tense up.

"What's wrong?" he asked, pulling away.

"Leave it on," she said. He could see the insecurity in her eyes and it made his heart break. There should have been someone around to tell her how beautiful she was on a regular basis. He figured he'd have to be that person.

"No," he said, pulling it up and kissing her stomach. Her eyes widened as he pushed her shirt up further. "I can't properly appreciate you with your shirt on."

* * *

A month passed, and their relationship spurred from a chance encounter accelerated. It was intense, but neither minded. Most of the time, Sam would end up staying the night at her place. He lived with his parents and didn't have the means to move out, even though he desperately wanted to. He wanted to take his siblings with him so they could all stop coming home to the monster they called Father. Shooting up used to be the only thing that made him happy, even if for a short time, and now that he had Mercedes in his life, she was like an endless supply of it. He wasn't willing to let that go anytime soon.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that she'd find someone better. Someone _not_ an emotionally crippled cut up junkie.

"Sam," she said, smiling when she saw him leaning against his car outside her job. He tried to pick her up as often as possible so she wouldn't have to ride the bus.

"Hey beautiful," he replied, standing up straight.

She was about to respond but was cut off before she could speak.

"Mercedes!" She turned around and saw Derrick, her manager jogging up to her.

"Yeah?" she asked, facing him. Sam's jaw clenched.

"I was wondering if you'd given any more thought to what I asked you," he said, touching her arm and eyeing Sam. He asked her out a while ago, and Mercedes would always tell him no. That hadn't changed.

"No, sorry." She gave him an apologetic half smile, but he didn't move his hand.

Sam walked over, moved Derrick's hand and pulled Mercedes close to him.

"Pretty sure she said no," he said, glaring.

"Who are you?" Derrick asked, already pissed because of the way Sam pushed his hand away.

"Does it matter?" Mercedes looked back and forth between them before settling on looking at the ground.

Derrick stepped closer and shoved Sam's shoulder.

"No need to be a dick, Blondie," he said. Sam looked at him in disbelief before pulling away from Mercedes and shoving the other guy much harder. A couple more shoves escalated into punches and soon Sam was on top of Derrick with his fists pounding into the guy's face. Everything around him seemed to dissolve and Mercedes had been screaming his name, but he was only just now beginning to hear it.

"SAM! STOP!" He stopped and looked around as if he didn't know where he was, breathing heavily. He looked at his blood covered fist and then at a horrified Mercedes.

"I…"

"You almost killed him!" he looked down at Derrick, who was almost unrecognizable and shaking. He let out a moan and Sam was relieved to find that he was not in fact, dead.

Mercedes pulled him up and ran over to the car. She fished in his pocket for the keys and got in, prompting him to do the same. She drove back to her apartment and brought him inside.

Once they were on her couch as she wrapped up his knuckles, he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"What was going through your head?" she asked, finishing and setting his hand down.

"I don't know. I blacked out," he said. She sighed and shook her head. "Mercedes…I just got so…fucking pissed when I saw him touch you and look at you that way."

"You don't have to be jealous…"

"But see, I _do_. A guy like him could give you stability…and everything you've ever wanted. I can't give you anything."

Mercedes took his hand and looked down at it. She was quiet for a long time before responding.

"Sam…you're the only thing keeping me alive," she said above a whisper. They weren't perfect; they were very far from it. Sometimes she'd ignore her meds and try to shut him out, but he wouldn't let her, he'd only stay at the apartment and wait for her to come around. Sometimes he would show up at her door at 3 in the morning, high as a kite and sporting fresh track marks, and she wouldn't judge him, just let him in and go to sleep holding him. They were both screwed up, but they immediately grew tethered to each other, and as far as she was concerned, nothing was going to break it.

He'd been staring at her after she said those words for a long time. Finally, he leaned forward, cupping her face with his bandaged hand and kissed her protracted and slow. She put her hand over his and embraced his tongue, her body filling with sparks; something that happened _whenever_ he kissed her.

"I love you," he said when they pulled away for air.

"And I love you," she told him with a smile.

It would have been great if things only went up from there. It would have been nice to just stay in a Sam and Mercedes cocoon filled with love making, holding each other and talking. But the blows kept coming.

"I can't breathe…'Cedes I can't breathe, I just…" he let out a strangled sob. He'd just told her his sister was dead at the hands of their insane father. He said he blacked out again and could only remember running away to find a fix. She didn't know what to say, and he wouldn't tell her _where_ he was, so she couldn't go find him and wrap him up in her arms like she wanted to. She could only listen.

"She's gone and I can't do shit about it. I can't do a thing…I swear the pain won't go away…" She heard him sniffle. "I shot up to make it stop hurting 'Cedes, but it won't go away. I just want to stop_ feeling_."

"Sam…" she began.

"I just needed to hear your voice," he said. She thought back to a night where he'd shown up to her apartment at a crazy hour with bloodshot eyes, clearly out of it, and she let him in and sang him to sleep. So she started singing '_You Are My Sunshine'_ through the phone. She heard his sobs subside as she sang, and kept going. He sniffed a few times, but he seemed to be calming down.

"Sam?" she said after singing the chorus a few more times.

"I love you." It was quiet, and his voice was even.

"I love you too."

She was happy he was composed now, and confident that he'd show up later. They stayed on the phone a bit longer, speaking every so often but mostly sitting in contented silence. The shit had hit the fan in his life, and they both knew that new challenges, like his addiction and her battle with crippling depression would plague them in the future, but as they sat there listening to the other breathe, they were filled. They'd be complete, and as long as they were facing it all together, _happy_.


End file.
